


Moving In

by Actual_Writing_Trashcan



Series: Colossus Hyperfixation Collection [24]
Category: Deadpool (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Implied Nudity, Like, Multi, This is just a happy fic, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, a lot of fluff, basically no warnings, because you're welcome, guarateed to cause cavities and make your heart melt out your ass, i think it's cute and i never like my own work, it's pretty cute, just some fluff, sexually suggestive content, so that's how you know it's cute, that's all that's going on, that's the fic, you and piotr move in together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-08-19 16:00:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16537733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Actual_Writing_Trashcan/pseuds/Actual_Writing_Trashcan
Summary: You and Piotr move in together.That's it. That's all that's going on.You're welcome.(Set after the end of "Dig the Needle In.")





	Moving In

You’re not entirely sure  _how_  this happened. It wasn’t something you were trying to make happen.

Not that you mind! You’re totally happy with the situation and all that it entails. It was just... unexpected, is all.

But, as you take stock of reality and all it holds, you can’t deny that you’ve officially crossed a new adult milestone.

You’ve moved into the same room as Piotr.

 

* * *

 

In hindsight, it was kinda inevitable. You’ve basically slept in his room every night --unless he was on a mission (you’ve never felt right about sleeping in Piotr’s room when he wasn’t there). You've got an extra set of toiletries for his bathroom and kept a change or two of pajamas in there. You've basically only gone to your room to get a change of clothes or one of your few possessions that you kept in there.

Frankly, it just wasn’t practical to keep two separate rooms. There were other mutants that needed your room, and you didn’t use the damn place enough to warrant keeping your name on it.

But, of course, it raised the legitimate issue of  _how to pop the question_ , as they say.

 

* * *

 

You do it as you do just about everything else: bluntly and with as little thinking beforehand as possible.

“Hey, you wanna move in together?” you blurt out during lunch one day.

Piotr, to his credit, doesn’t bolt out of the room screaming like most sitcoms would have him do. Instead, he blinks, then grins. “Sure.”

“Cool.” You grin, then stage whisper to your sandwich. “All is going according to plan. He doesn’t suspect a thing.”

Piotr just laughs and kisses the top of your head. “Whatever you say,  _myshka_.”

 

* * *

 

Of course, popping the question really just opens up a slew of chaos.

First, you have to figure out  _where_  you’re moving too. As familiar as it is, Piotr’s room isn’t big enough to house two people. Which means you have to pick a new room to move into. Fortunately, Xavier’s does have a few rooms meant for couples.

Unfortunately, the term ‘couples’ implies that two people have to agree on which room to pick.

Easier said than done.

 

* * *

 

“I think the one on second floor would be best. Most centrally located,” Piotr says after the two of you poke around in all the available rooms.

And, granted, he’s right, but--

“But the one of the third floor! Babe, it’s perfect!”

He raises an eyebrow. “It is right next to Wade and Cable’s room.”

“Okay, yes, but--”

“And it means getting up ten minutes earlier to start workouts on time.”

“Fair point, however--”

“And--”

“Okay! Babe! I get it! It’s less efficient! However, I have an argument to obliterate every reason you could come up with!”

He smirks and reaches out to run his fingers through your hair, amused and endeared more than anything else. “ _Khorosho_. Let’s hear it.”

“Two words: garden tub.”

His eyes squeeze shut and he laughs incredulously. “That’s it? The bathtub?”

You peer up at him through your lashes and trail your fingers up and down his chest. “It’s big enough for both of us.”

“Really?  _Really_?”

“Maybe I like the idea of taking a bath with you. Is that so wrong?” You smile as he laughs again and wrap your arms around his waist. “Please?  _Pretty please_? I  _really_  like that room.”

He hugs you back and smiles down at you. “We’ll see.”

 

* * *

 

The two of you end up going with the third floor room; Wade helps you come through with a couple clutch arguments that seal the deal.

First being the balcony attached to the room that made for a convenient landing spot if you were flying, second being your proximity to Wade and Nathan if you had an episode while Piotr was gone on a mission and needed help, and third being your proximity to an easy exit if you slipped into an episode too fast to get to a safe room and needed to clear the mansion.

Let the record show that you like winning, especially in areas that aren’t necessarily  _that_  important. Or a competition.

Which is what Piotr reminds you when you pump your fist after he agrees to moving into the available third floor room.

You break into a victory dance anyway, twirling around and pumping yourself up as you shimmy, sway, and bounce your way around your boyfriend’s bedroom.

Piotr, to his credit, doesn’t admonish you or complain. He simply rolls his eyes and chuckles as he watches you relish your “victory,” smiling fondly as his gaze tracks you around the room.

And when you start swaying your hips in a more adult fashion and shake your ass in his direction, he doesn’t complain either.

(But, admittedly, your victory dance does stop shortly thereafter.)

 

* * *

 

Officially moving into one space with Piotr is... surprisingly easier than you expected.

Maybe it’s because you really don’t have much to your name, even after all your time spent at the mansion.

Or maybe it’s because Piotr is so damn practical.

(It’s both, if you’re being honest.)

You get the bed moved first --well, Piotr and Nathan move the bed while you and Wade act as spotters and make generally unhelpful comments about your respective boyfriend’s asses.

(If there’s more to life than this, you don’t want to hear about it.)

Desks, chairs for said desks, nightstands, lamps, and bookshelves go next --again, Piotr and Nate move, you and Wade spot and comment. The bookshelves are placed on the wall opposite of the desks, framing the room and making a neat pathway to the bed, which sits by the door to the balcony.

You have to say, you like it. You like the layout, like the blend of his stuff and yours.

Clothes are next at Piotr’s insistence --something about having the space functional even if everything isn’t in the new room.

(Given that disasters have a habit of striking at the  _least_  convenient times, you can’t really argue.)

You blindly chuck your clothes in the closet, then turn and jump when you see Piotr standing behind you, staring you down disapprovingly. “Whoa, babe, you scared me.”

“Pick up your clothes.”

“They’re in the closet! I fail to see the problem!”

“Y/N.”

You roll your eyes dramatically --you know he’s right, but it’s so  _annoying_. “Ugh! Fine!”

 

* * *

 

Books, CDs, art supplies, random tchotkes --everything is brought up from your old rooms, arranged and rearranged, until you’re both relatively satisfied with how everything’s laid out.

You sit on your new bed that night, gazing happily at the new space. Your artwork is hung over your desk with pieces of Scotch tape, and some of Piotr’s works are framed and hung opposite of the bed.

You’re certain that things will be rearranged eventually, as the two of you find ways to make the space ‘fit’ better. But, for now, you can’t find it in yourself to care all that much.

It finally feels like you have home --more so than the mansion or your old room ever was. The room’s yours, yes, but it’s also Piotr’s, and it has reminders of him everywhere that help you relax into the space and make you feel safe; the subtle smell of his cologne and the soap he uses, the neat order of his desk and art supplies contrasting against the colorful chaos of yours, his nightstand on his side of the bed that has pictures of his family, of Russia, and of you...

It’s a reminder that you’re not alone, not anymore, and you love it more than you thought you ever would.

Piotr emerges from your --shared!--bathroom in a pair of boxers and nothing else. He doesn’t miss the way you eye him, and he smirks. “Thinking about anything,  _myshka_?”

You smirk back and push your sentimental mood aside. There’ll be time for that later. Right now, you’ve got more important things to do. “Yeah, actually. We need to christen the room.”

He chuckles, shakes his head, and leans back against the bathroom door frame. His biceps flex as he crosses his arms over his chest, and the hungry way his gaze rakes up and down you is a dead giveaway that he’s as much of a fan of the idea as you are. “Really? Is that all you can think of?”

You’re never one to back down from a challenge. “Well, I  _could_  run through the list of all the swear words I know, if you’d like--”

He rolls his eyes and stalks over to the bed, yanking you down so you’re positioned to his liking and pulling apart your legs with his hands. “ _Nyet_. You’re not doing that.”

“I don’t know. I’m pretty good at talking. And swearing.”

“If I’m doing job right, you won’t be able to think enough to talk.”

And that --that sounds  _awfully_  promising.

You grin, lust charged and defiant all at once, and whip off your shirt before smacking him in the face with the garment. “Oh, it’s on. Do your worst, Mr. Rasputin.”

He growls, tears the shirt out of your hand, and yanks your pajama pants off in one swift movement. “With pleasure.”

You let yourself lie back against the bed and sigh happily as he begins attacking your body with his mouth and hands.

 

* * *

 

You’re home.

There’s something wonderful in that.


End file.
